Hydra
by Mail Jeevus
Summary: AU. When bored government programmer Yagami Raito discovers the corruption of the worldwide regime, he decides to do something about it. Cue the development of the Death Note computer virus, and the appearance of the famous detective L. Eventual Yaoi.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Death Note. The credit to the development of this plot is attributed to Nilahxapiel and ChanceXIII on the Plot Bunny Exchange.

--

"_A many headed foe…returns whenever struck to reveal two below."_

Yagami Raito had speculated that when he finished his schooling and entered the same workforce as his father, that life would not be so unbearably dull. He predicted change and excitement rather than the colourless monotony that his childhood and teen years had to offer. It was a sad thing indeed, then, when he realized that the NPA wasn't as glamourous as he had expected it to be. Within a few years' time, the doldrums that his career had degenerated into was too much to take. He fabricated a few believable excuses, apologized profusely to his father, and promptly found a new and promising position in the technological aspect of the government.

A year later, he found himself falling into the same, uninterested stupor that surrounded him like a plague.

"Yagami-kun," called a distinctly feminine voice, ringing from the doorway of the government facility. Raito had hoped that he would be able to vacate the premises before anyone happened to catch him going home, since his coworkers (especially those of the female variety) tended to engage him in long-winded and needless conversation. Now, he realized just a moment too late, he had delayed enough to catch the small group of programmers that worked in his department leaving for the night. The ghost of a scowl distorted his calm expression, though it was a gone in a flash. As set back as he was from this encounter, he put on a pleasant demeanor, smoothed it out, and turned toward the source of the distraction.

"Hello, Takada-san," he said easily. Always the polite gentleman, he was; even to those who didn't exactly warrant it.

"It's a surprise catching you out here," replied the one called Takada, her dark eyes sparkling slightly. Admittedly, she was very beautiful, and quite atypical for the small ring of technical experts that did odd jobs for the technological branch of the government. Then again, the same could be said for Raito himself. "You usually leave so early."

Raito could detect the authentic lament that rang out in her voice, and returned it with a diminutive but apologetic smile.

"Excuse me," came the reply. "I'm simply very busy. Perhaps I could make it up to you someday?" Oh, quite the charmer. And Takada drank it all up; despite the known fact that the Yagami son was currently dating the famed Amane Misa, the woman's eyes seemed to fill with a smug hope.

"That would be wonderful, Yagami-kun. Perhaps we could go out for coffee tomorrow after work." Her hints were powerful, but the object of her affection didn't seem to be as infatuated as she, though he hid it well.

"Coffee sounds wonderful. I'll see you then." He smiled again for good measure. This seemed a satisfactory enough good bye for the young woman, for she merely smiled back, waved primly, and turned sharply in order to stalk brusquely to her car in clacking heels. Raito maintained his pleasant aura even as he shifted as well, until he began his excursion to his car. Fatigue then settled around his eyes and in his grim expression; it had clearly been another long day.

And it wasn't as though his work was particularly difficult or strenuous. In fact, the male excelled above most who worked in the network security division. Granted, there weren't many, considering the government's desire to minimize project participation, but he still was too good at what he did to have the simple construction of a firewall wear him out. No, what stripped him of his stamina was the ennui that his work entailed. He kept up appearances, of course, making it seem as though his career was fulfilling his every dream and more, but there was something about this world…something about it that made his thirst for intrigue unslaked.

The arrival at his car interrupted the introspective considerations of his dreary life, thankfully keeping the more dangerous notions of rebellion or another career change at bay. The key turned in the ignition, and his chocolate brown eyes fell to the rearview mirror, beginning the usual, yet brief, sojourn home. Silence consumed the world for a few precious seconds before a restless hand lifted to flick on the radio.

"—_rumour has it that the famous detective L closed this case months before the police themselves_—"

Yagami Raito's attention was drawn from his own psychological ailments to the announcement on the diplomatic station that he had his tuner set to perpetually. Usually, the sound that issued from the radio acted more as a distraction, rather than actual news, since most of the things that he heard were either complete nonsense, or he had heard somewhere before. Now, however, the program was offering information about one of the only things that made Raito regret his decision to leave the NPA. Toward the end of his police career, the only thing that kept his interest piqued was the anomaly that presented itself in the form of a famous yet contradictorily unknown detective. The brunette fancied that perhaps he would work on a case with this strange L—who went by no more than a letter. Unfortunately, it was said that L did not take any case except those that interested him. Thus, the chance did not arise for Raito to work personally with the investigator.

"Perhaps we are the same in that respect, L," murmured the young man in response to the broadcast that still issued from his car stereo. Raito mused that he would gauge a case's worth by exactly the same standards, and wondered whether that made him selfish.

Regardless of the answer that he received from his subconscious, all worrisome inclinations were banished immediately as he pulled into the driveway of his apartment complex, knowing exactly who and what would greet him as he scaled the stairway that led to his floor, and similarly his room.

"Raito, you're home!"

As expected, a scantily clad Amane Misa came racing from the miniscule kitchen, and the smell of something burning wafted from the same direction. Yagami sighed and produced a smile, similar to the one he had treated Takada to not moments before, and chanted a familiar mantra in his mind: _I love this woman, I love this woman, I love this woman._ It had been he, after all, who asked her on a date for the first time. Thinking back on it now, he truly forgot who it was who initiated this charade of intimacy.

"Good evening, Misa," he replied warmly. "I see you took the liberty of cooking dinner for me. How many times have I told you not to go through the trouble?"

"Oh, but I wanted to, Raito," the bubbly blonde countered flirtatiously. "You always work so hard and sometimes forget to eat as much as you should, so Misa thought that she would treat you." The temptation to wrinkle his nose was brushed away; it was the thought that counted, after all.

Raito had been dating the young woman for at least a month. This span of time had earned her a key to his room and full use of everything except his bedroom, which housed his files and hard drives. If he allowed the blonde to touch his more confidential things, then his career would soon end. The government was quite paranoid, after all, and all possibility of a spy lurking in their midst was eradicated by extreme measures. Yet this did not bother the Yagami male. He took the tight security and suspicious procedures as a challenge. Such was the reason why he had taken on the hefty task of hacking the entire government database from his own computer—just to see if he could.

And speaking of which…

"Misa, I have some work to finish," he said blithely, charming his girlfriend with a kiss on her forehead. She blushed like a schoolgirl (despite being older than he by two years) and scampered off to the kitchen again. Truly, her intellect—though considerably not up to par with Raito's own—was not completely lacking. Raito would never answer the question 'Do you love her?' outright, for fear of coming to terms with the fact that…well, he didn't. Perhaps he dated her for pity; perhaps it was simply her publicity.

However, Yagami Raito liked to think that he was not so superficial.

Thinking on it, though, it was quite likely that he _was_ shallow—at least to a degree. That was the reason why he arrived at his room, loosened his tie with an emotionless sigh, and began to set up his laptop on the bedroom desk. The reason he wanted to dig into the underbelly of the Japanese government and the international secret services was to fuel his own pride, he realized. Maybe if this task kept his interest, he would be less apt to change careers again due to suffocating boredom.

A tiny, mechanical jingle rang from the portable computer, announcing merrily that it was fully booted up and ready to perform the secretive deeds that Raito indulged in purely for fun. The fact that he succumbed so easily to monotony developed a settling feeling of shame in the pit of his stomach, likening him to a flighty prepubescent teenager.

A thoughtful gaze swept over the endless amounts of evidence that displayed what kind of corruption the world held. Blackmail, bribery, crime, embezzlement—even the most just of operations run by the government were filled with these. Millions of dollars were lost mysteriously through business transactions, though the missing money was concealed behind scapegoats and flowery words. Powerful people, after all, could not be tied down to the strictures of human law, especially when it was they that governed it.

Raito had been watching over this abomination for approximately a week, recording the more blameworthy notations in his computer's hard drive. If he was found out, his career would be over in a heartbeat, and he would be looked down on as a traitor. He had known the risks from day one, when he discovered the detestable acts performed by greedy world leaders and ambitious organizations. His thoughts then shifted to those first moments:

_It did not even take the programmer a half hour before he was mulling about in the supposedly top secret areas of the government. He had broken down each firewall and barrier with ease, being that it was he who had created them to begin with. The things that interested him were searched through first, leaving Raito in a folder marked 'econoactivity'. He read through each report dispassionately—that is, until something detrimental caught his eye. _

"_What is this?" he demanded to no one in particular, rage melding onto his face as individual accounting and activities came up onto the screen. The credit of each high-ranking member of the government seemed to be directly linked to the debit of others. Hoards of gained income were missing in the translation of business transactions between countries, and likewise for the people's tax. The leader of the country himself seemed to be squirreling away money that belonged to the nation, not to him. 'Surely this is a mistake,' mused the man. 'There can't be this much corruption in the Japanese government.' _

_Raito hesitated for a moment, and then immediately downloaded the file to his computer. If he was caught, there would be hell to pay, but that wasn't the issue at the moment. Once the download was complete, he moved on to another more tightly guarded area of the database and accessed it, afraid of what he might find. _

_He was at a loss. The world's secret services—namely the FBI, CIA, and M16—were all under the influence of their governments. Of course this was true, but it didn't help much that bribery and blackmail were being enforced within the more honorable branches of operation; even the mafia seemed to be working, unchecked, within their ranks. _

_When it came down to it, money was being stolen, blackmail and bribery were influencing powerful figureheads of the world, and illegal actions were being performed everywhere—everywhere where justice was supposedly a ruling and steadfast axiom. _

_Raito stood from his chair and began to pace the room. _

"_Wh-what…what is going on here?" he questioned all who cared to listen, the words merely ghosts on his tongue. "How can this be the force that's leading the world? Such corruption…and who's going to do something about it?" _

_In the darkness of his bedroom, no answer came to him. _

Yagami Raito massaged his weary eye sockets with one lazy hand. He had been collecting the condemning data as evidence, evidence that he planned to share once he had gathered enough to show that the government wasn't as beneficial to the people as it so audaciously claimed.

Tonight was the night that all necessary proof was amassed. With one sweeping motion, he printed the pages and pages of documents, smirking prematurely in his victory. He knew that as soon as others in his department were aware of this, then petitions and court investigation could begin. There was no feasible way that such large organizations—these were whole national _governments_ for Christ's sake—could get away with deceiving their people and consequently depriving them of basic rights.

There was one person that he could meet up with at first: the person who shared just as much power in their department as he. Takada Kiyomi. He knew that she would agree with him whole-heartedly, and she would definitely assist him in his movement against the corruption.

His interest was sparked again; in this way, he could do something for the world. Tomorrow, when he met up with his coworker for coffee, he would set a new campaign for justice in motion.

--

Takada was right on time after work, waiting in the vast underground parking lot with a purse hanging primly over her shoulder and a lipsticked smile on her face. It seemed as though she had used her last few minutes of work time in the bathroom adjusting her hair and make-up. It showed, too; the moment that Yagami stepped into view, he smiled wanly at the effort put into her appearance. Obviously she construed this outing as a date. Raito would prefer to put it in terms of something more professional.

Regardless, he stepped up to her, footsteps colliding harshly with the asphalt, and appraised her beauty, earning a light blush.

"I'll drive if you'd like...it would save gas," he proposed, referring to the consolidation of fuel. Takada responded quite positively to this inclination, following her coffee date to his car. She had no idea of his true motives: it was always easier to present one's ideas when the audience is in a favourable mood.

Once both parties had entered the car and Raito had backed out of the lot, the radio was turned on again. There was a vague hope in the brunette's mind that maybe another report on L would be broadcasted: no such luck. As a result, he was forced to drive with only a stock update blaring in the background.

It was a relief, then, that they arrived at their designated café in a timely manner. The two coworkers exited the vehicle with a true, professional air and entered the place, where Raito then commenced in ordering two mugs of coffee and steering the female to a secluded booth so as to keep curious strangers from listening in on their conversation. They sat mirroring each other, Takada positively glowing with delight in their outing, and Raito doing almost the same—though for very different reasons.

"Takada-san," the male expressed lowly, being a bit too furtive in his tone, which caused his coffee date to peer at him concernedly. "I thought I might speak to you about something more professional at first. I'm very sorry, but I believe that this is very important."

Due to Raito's urgency, reluctance seeped into the dark-haired woman's face.

"What is it that you would like to speak to me about?"

This was all the go-ahead the brunette needed to reach into the briefcase leaned against the side of his chair and retrieve a thick, manila folder that housed his culminated evidence. With a satisfactory _thwap_, he presented it on the table, allowing wary eyes to drink it in before he opened it to reveal the secrets that lay inside.

"In here is recording of detestable acts performed by not only our government, but governments and agencies worldwide," he explained in a hushed whisper. "With this, petitions and investigations can be put through. This world's leaders and ascendant parties are so corrupted that it makes me sick to think about it. We have to do something, or else things are going to stay like this, probably forever."

Concluding his explanatory diatribe, Raito waited expectantly for Takada to peruse the papers he had printed for her. Her frown deepened with each page she flipped through, but other than that, no reaction had been outwardly elicited. Eventually, she pushed the stack bodily away from her, sighing and shaking her head repeatedly.

"This is terrible," she stated plainly, and it was clear that she meant it. "The corruption here is all too evident…and it looks like it's been going on for quite some time."

Yagami leaned back in his chair with an almost unnoticeable smirk. His plan was successful; he had convinced Takada of the horrors he himself had seen.

"…but, Yagami-kun, there's nothing we can do about this."

The haughty smile was immediately wiped from his face.

"What do you mean?"

"We're just two people," she explicated. "Even if we tried to get more people to support a cause like this, we would be going against the government and intelligence agencies. If they wanted to, they would fire and kill us to keep their positions secure. I don't even feel comfortable looking at those files you just showed me."

Raito almost twitched in his seat. So this damned vice had gotten under Takada's skin, too.

"So what do you suggest?" he questioned stiffly.

"Burn these papers and leave it alone," she said, shaking her head. "I don't want you to get hurt, Yagami-kun, and that is exactly what will happen if you pursue this. I don't agree with what's going on, but…" The woman trailed off, turning an apologetic and wary gaze to her companion, who, much to her chagrin, appeared to be livid.

"Yagami-kun," she tried meekly, and earned no response. "There's nothing you can do."

There was the last straw. Nothing he could do? No, that was a lie. He stood, eyes alight with agitation and the promise of change; it was clear that no one would help him, but he knew better ways to take down this outrageous tyranny. He thrust the manila folder back into his briefcase and lifted it, nearly knocking the table over in his rage and haste to leave.

"Thank you for your help, Takada-san," the brunette said crisply, masking his anger immediately and once again becoming the pleasant, intelligent Yagami Raito that was shown in public. "Though I'm afraid that I have urgent business to attend to. Please enjoy your coffee."

A few hundred yen were deposited on the table (to pay for his own cup; he would not make a woman pay for his expense, no matter how irate he was), and he rushed from the shop. His coworker would have to take the subway home, because he was not in any mood to deal with her on the way back. The attaché case was hurled into the passenger seat and he sped off in a fury. This time, he did not waste a moment to turn on the radio. There was nothing on any broadcast now that would gauge his interest. The world was against him…everything he believed in was mocked with vicious grins and barefaced disregard.

But in the face of this treachery, Yagami Raito let out a peal of laughter, one that shook the foundations of his car and was laced with his every intention.

"There's nothing I can do?" he hissed, between estranged and raucous chuckles. "Nothing? That's where you are wrong. How do you break something down? You start by hacking away at its limbs so that it has nothing left to stand on, and then you silence the mind so that it cannot fathom anymore dishonesty. You kill it so that it cannot corrupt anymore. I intend to obliterate this world's vice from the source."

And thus were the assuaging thoughts that danced through the man's head as he returned home—eyes glazed over with hatred. He knew exactly what he was to do in order to save the world from itself.

--

**A/N:** Phew. I was very worried about the posting of this story as a whole, especially since it's my first fanfiction (posted in public, mind you) that isn't about Matt and Mello. I truly hope that it meets the phenomenal expectations that other LightxL writers have set down before me.

And of course, none of this could be remotely possible without my wonderful and talented beta **Mikanis**, who helped me to get this out into the open—despite my fears that it will be shunned. Thank you, merci beaucoup, arigatou gozaimasu!

-Mail Jeevus


	2. Chapter 2

**chapitre deux.**

--

"You look stunning today, Naomi."

In the bustling of the main bureaus of the FBI, Naomi Misora only just heard the amiable voice of her fiancé, Raye Penbar. Her eyes averted from the computer screen she was working diligently at and turned to smile brightly at the male beside her, who was carrying two cups of coffee and a sealed briefcase.

"Thank you, Raye," the agent responded demurely, smiling to accentuate the gratitude behind her words. "What are you doing in this department?"

Penbar sought to sit in the seat beside the dark-haired woman before answering, setting one mug in front of the female and indulging in a sip from his own.

"I came to bring you coffee, and enjoy your presence," he said, chuckling. "I can't stay for too long, though…we're swamped in with a new inquiry."

Misora treated him to a sober glance, knowing exactly what he meant. L had only recently closed a case that the police had been investigating in America, but that didn't deter another criminal from rising out of the ashes in the south. It was a very inopportune time, since the FBI was busy tying up loose ends for the last case—almost as though it was planned. She herself had been hoping to join the case, but since she had only recently been reinstated, she wasn't permitted to work on more confidential cases, namely those that involved L. That seemed ironic in a sense, since L was the reason why she had come back into the Federal Bureau of Investigations in the first place.

"That's too bad," Misora said wistfully, truly lamenting in the prospect of Raye's early departure. Filing evidence records online was lonely business. She couldn't wait until she was allowed back in the field again. "By the way, Raye, could you take a look at something for me? There's a piece of evidence that doesn't seem to be linked back to any case on record, and I was wondering if you would know…"

She turned in her chair to access the evidence report window that she had had up on the screen only minutes ago. As she located the file in question, the screen fell blank.

"What?" Naomi Misora questioned, checking the power instinctively. To her surprise, the button that indicated whether or not the computer was on was glowing brightly, contrasting with the fact that the monitor and CPU were clearly unresponsive. "Raye…what's going on?"

Her fiancé shook his head. "Maybe your computer is malfunctioning?" He leaned over it for examination, but no comprehension invaded his dark eyes, and he pulled away sheepishly.

"I don't know the first thing about computer systems…I only know how to use them. You should probably ask someone else from the department."

"Oh…alright," responded Misora, shaking her mouse a few times, but garnering no response. She stood from her chair and turned, only to frown at the sea of monitors in the room. Everywhere, computers were going out, as a chain of dominoes. Even the immense screens embedded into the walls were falling to the darkened will of the unknown. Grumbles and sighs replaced the sound of clacking keys, and each people began to lean over to other computers in search of help from their colleagues, only to realize that the same problem was occurring all over the room.

Subsequently, phones began to sound, raising the decibel of incoherent speech to loud wails of dissonant rings. Now the area was filled with the low buzzing of people speaking over the phone, questioning why all of the computers had become completely and inexplicably unresponsive. In time, Misora's own phone began jingling irritably, waiting for the female to pick up.

"Naomi Misora," she answered professionally, as she always did.

"_This is Agent Carlton Lamb from the technical department,"_ spoke a voice from the other end of the phone in a nasally pitch. _"Is your computer malfunctioning?"_

Caught off guard by this slightly omniscient question, Misora replied:

"Yes…what's wrong with it?"

"_Well, I'm afraid that all of our systems have been infiltrated by something. This has been happening all over the building," _Lamb responded sullenly. _"Thank you for your help, Misora."_

The receiver clicked, and she was treated only to the hum of a dial tone. Brow furrowing, she was jolted by a tap on her shoulder by Raye.

"Naomi…look…"

The look on her partner's face caused her to turn and gaze in the direction that the other was facing.

It was then that every eye was fixed on the most imposing computer screen that hung above a mammoth doorway, one that usually read off news reports and schedules. Now, however, it was stained the same ebony as every other, though now bore two ominous words, inked in white:

_**DEATH NOTE **_

Misora's eyes widened, and it was clear that her shock was shared by everyone else in the area. She turned abruptly to Raye, who shot her a fleeting look before bustling off.

"Sorry, Naomi, I need to get to the bottom of this," he said back to her, heading for the door. Before he could depart, however, he was intercepted by a stout, sweating man with a thinning hairline. He was dressed in an impressive manner, but his face was filled with panic and bewilderment.

"Penbar, what is going on here? What is _Death Note_?" he questioned erratically, the expression in his eyes now accusing. Each and every other person in the building bore the same pretense, one that stemmed from one place and one place alone: fear.

Raye Penbar shook his head brusquely. "I wouldn't know, sir," he stated. "I came in here to speak to Naomi, and all of the screens went black—then those words came up onto the announcement screen."

"Yes, that's been happening everywhere," responded the man impatiently. "Could it be a virus?"

"I don't kn—"

He did not get to finish, for the menacing letters had disappeared, allowing for collage-style text to scroll against the persisting background and subsequently catching the ravenous gaze of every man and woman. Each letter appeared as though it had been cut from a magazine—like a ransom note.

"Why is it written like that?" spoke Raye, almost to himself, in a hoarse whisper. "A ransom note's purpose is to mask the writer's handwriting…but this is via the computer. What is this trying to accomplish?"

His rhetorical questions were silenced by a sharp noise that indicated the completion of the message, because that was truly what it was: a note from some anonymous sender, written in English, obviously, to cater to the American secret service.

_To the FBI: _

_Consider this a revolution. _

_Have a nice day. _

A fresh wave of murmurs broke out through the mobs of people that were gawking at one screen or another, as all computers bore the same thing. Penbar felt a brush against his shoulder and turned to notice Misora, eyes grave and contemplating.

"This has to be some kind of virus, Raye," she murmured worriedly. "I have no idea what the hacker is saying, but if they're able to do this kind of damage to the FBI…"

"You're right, Misora," chimed in the doughy man that had entered previously, now wiping his brow with a handkerchief, hand shaking as he did so. "Come with me."

Both agents followed obediently, albeit perplexed. Misora Naomi's head spun with questions and impossible answers. This was clearly the work of a human being, but who? Was the person truly an American, and if not, where did he come from? Every musing that she managed to conjure, however, was followed by the same sense of trepidation: whoever this person was, he must have had had some kind of power in order to successfully penetrate and take full control of the FBI mainframe. Everyone else must have had the same terrified mindset, because as soon as the three people crossed the threshold of the director's office, a group of people were standing in a clump around the computer there, where the same daunting memorandum was leering at them all.

"Misora, Penbar," acknowledged the pale-faced director of the FBI. It was good that he knew what kind of danger this posed for America. This was an extreme kind of terrorism, and if it wasn't dealt with immediately, more threats like this would be sent out—and eventually the public would get wind of it.

Chaos would reign before long.

"Director Mason…" began Misora, stepping forward. "What's going on here?" Surely the higher-ups would have more information about this situation.

Tight-lipped, the man shook his head, much to both agents' chagrin. "We…don't know anything. We have programmers looking for a leak as we speak, or at least a way to take down the virus—or whatever this is. It seems a little too…goal-oriented to be a virus. You read that message, didn't you?"

Misora and Penbar nodded simultaneously.

"Yes, sir," piped up the male of the two. "Have you gotten any headway in disengaging the virus? Surely something like this shouldn't be so damaging to our systems."

"You would think so," said a tall, broad-shouldered man to the director's left, heavy eyebrows creased even lower due to the circumstances. "But they haven't found a crack in it. Granted, the programmers just started looking into it, but they're the best of the best. It's uncomfortable that this is such a sealed deal…whoever made this thing means business."

Silence swallowed the group, leaving only the whirring of intruded computer systems and the sterile smell of festering technology. Misora bit her lip, eyes darting straight ahead in thought. Normally, America's best investigators would not have been so flustered by what appeared to be a threat; they received them all the time. However, the dread that settled in the atmosphere was not spawned from a commonplace hacker.

_A revolution. _

What in the world was that supposed to mean?

"Sir," the dark-haired woman declared, gazing sharply at the director. "Please let me help in researching this…virus." It almost wasn't a request, though the words were spoken humbly enough not to rouse suspicion.

Director Mason stared at her somberly for a long while, as though attempting to discern something. Wrinkles were pinched into the beginnings of crow's feet at the corners of his eyes, painting shadows on his face to embody the worry that was spreading like an epidemic.

"Very well, Misora," he said stiffly, lips scarcely moving to form the words. "Go see the programming department and get updated. All I need to know is if we need to know is if we need to take physical measures—send out inquiries, speak to other intelligence organizations. Don't do anything else. We have no idea what we're dealing with."

Grateful at least that her request had been granted, Misora Naomi nodded brusquely and declined her head in the smallest of gestures, hair tumbling over her shoulders in liquid waves. Raye shot her a glance and she nodded to him in assurance, a look that clearly said "_Don't worry, Ray; I can do this on my own_." She had known he would be wary of her assistance in this matter; ever since they had become engaged—which was precisely days after she had made the arrest of the notorious Los Angeles serial murderer, Beyond Birthday—he had been loathe on the idea that they would still both be working together. He had hoped that the news would cause her to quit her career and become a stay-at-home wife. Misora had assured him that when they married, she would do exactly that.

But not now.

She still had things to accomplish in the FBI, and Raye needed to acknowledge that.

Thus, wearing an anxiety-worn though determined expression, the woman turned on a boot-clad heel and exited the room, feeling the eyes of men she was leaving behind on her back. They weren't necessarily counting on her, but it felt as though they were. Her footsteps became leaden as she neared the programming department. This wasn't like the murder case she had dealt with for L—she did not have the most famous detective in the world's support and finance, and nor did she have a genius serial killer guiding her steadily toward the answer. Misora was boasted as a skilled agent, but her confidence was for naught when she contemplated how much assistance she had received in her past cases. With the confused and chaotic nature of bureau now, she didn't put much faith in the FBI as far as assistance.

Now, she was on her own.

Naomi Misora arrived at her investigation with a gait more confident than she felt. It was best to make everyone think that she knew what she was doing, since the air was even more panicked here.

A scrawny man with sparse blonde hair that swept down to gather at the base of his ears approached her, nervously adjusting his glasses with his index finger, clearing his throat to garner her attention.

"My name is Lawrence Hooper. You must be here to help with the virus," he noted rather sadly, extending one hand with every intention to shake. Misora gladly returned the gesture as an assent to his words.

"Naomi Misora. So you know that it's definitely a virus?" she questioned, just to make sure that her suspicions were accurate. The other one nodded gravely, his face bearing the same gaunt apprehension that had been evident with the director.

"Usually with this kind of thing we're not too worried," he said with a sigh. "People try to send viruses to the FBI all the time, and they're always pretty cleverly encoded. But we've never seen anything this widespread or so damn difficult to crack. Viruses usually infect one or two computers at one time, and are stealthily sent to every other system through email or file sharing. This time, all of our computers were infected at once, so it's difficult to find anywhere as an access point to dismantle the thing."

Misora frowned, not really understanding what Hooper meant. If the virus was impenetrable, and there was no way to examine it with the infected systems, then how could they gather any information about it?

"Is there any other way than through the infected computers to examine the virus?" she questioned.

"Well, the CPUs are totally incapacitated," he noted with a knitted brow. "We experimented with one computer, though." He waved toward a laptop on a nearby desk, whose screen was still plagued by the same unyielding message. The female agent stalked toward it and examined the monitor, confusion crossing her face briefly.

"Do you see what's wrong here?" Hooper questioned lowly. "We unassembled the entire thing, you see, and reformatted the hard drive. Hell, the operating system was even reinstalled. We figured that that would keep the virus from coming back, since it seemed like a one-time sweep. Well…you know what results we got."

Misora turned to stare probingly at the programmer.

"It still came back? How could that happen?"

"We don't know." The blonde man sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger in what looked like a half-hearted attempt to keep a budding headache at bay. "It's baffling the entire department. Right now we're testing the same method on every system we can get our hands on, but nothing works."

"Have you tried anything else?"

"Well, if the virus came with some kind of code that could help unravel it, maybe we could take it apart in the same way that it was put together. Sorry to say, we're trying that right now, and…" Hooper's voice suddenly became hushed and urgent. "It's getting us no where. Whoever made this thing is a genius. Not even our best agents can even begin to unlock it. We might even have to find this guy and force him to take it apart for us."

Misora's heart sank. If the person who created the virus was as ingenious as he was claimed to be, tracking him down would probably prove just as difficult as taking apart the virus he created. But without any means of getting information about the infection, they were lost. With millions of people in the world, any of them could have done this—even the people who worked in this very department.

"So what are we supposed to do by way of computer access?" she asked, almost fearing for the answer.

Lawrence Hooper inhaled sharply and let it out, as though he too did not like breaching this subject.

"As things stand…we'll probably have to buy a whole new set of machines," he said pessimistically. "That will keep us from having to track down this guy, but it will still cost a lot of government money, money that we don't have to be spending on brand new technology."

"No," said Misora, almost angrily. "We won't have to buy new technology. That's senseless. We're the FBI. I was sent here to figure out the damage, and now that we know that we won't be able to stop the virus without figuring out who the person is that made it, then we have no choice but to catch him. Besides, if we did buy new computers, don't you think that the hacker would try to infect them, too? And by the looks of the situation, he would probably succeed."

The other stared at her sheepishly, once again adjusting his glasses and averting his eyes. Ah, so he knew she was right. That helped, though perhaps she wasn't being as forthright as she should have been; truly, she wasn't confident at all that they'd find the person responsible. It was just easier to pretend like she was.

"You're right, Ms. Misora," he relented with a nod. "We're a Federal Bureau of Investigations. We should probably investigate. Unfortunately, that's not my department. Good luck on your search." Once again he extended a hand, and Misora took it, this time a little more enthusiastic about the shake.

"Thank you, Mr. Hooper," she said, nodding. "I'll come to you if I have any questions."

This seemed to satiate the male, allowing the Japanese woman to exit the room brusquely, intent on divulging her findings to the director before asking him once again to be apart of this case. There would need to be a team of investigators amassed to solve the inexplicable case of this Death Note virus, and Misora aimed to be apart of it.

"Naomi…you're going to try and investigate this, aren't you?" spoke a voice that was laced with worry.

The female froze, sighing when she realized that Raye had been released by the director. Of course her intentions were known; her fiancé would be acquainted with her desires, after all, even if he didn't approve of them.

"Being an agent is my life, Raye," she said, turning and casting him a wan smile. "And I'm giving it up for you. Can't I enjoy just one last case before I settle down? I want to be with you—live at home for you—but until we're married, I still have an obligation to the FBI."

This answer still didn't seem to please the man.

"I know, Naomi. I know. I just hoped that the announcement of our engagement would make you want to start our life early. Being my wife is a full-time job, you know."

"It will be," she assured, striding up and pecking him on the cheek chastely. "Just one more case, Raye. For my sake."

Hesitation lingered inthe air around her partner, until finally his shoulders relaxed and he nodded slowly.

"Alright, Naomi. One more case. Then maybe we can fly to Japan and get your parents' blessings—and then get married in Osaka."

Misora smiled genuinely. That would be nice, Raye. I'll see you later."

And then she left without giving him a moment to respond, not really wanting to see the expression in his eyes. She loved him, she really did…but he always seemed to be planning for her future without her consent. Once they wed, however, she predicted that things would get so much better. They would have a house, and a family…

Brushing off these thoughts in favour of the task at hand, Naomi Misora returned to the director's office. It was now relatively empty, save for the director himself and another man. The two were speaking in hushed whispers, but immediately ceased their conversation when they noticed that they were not alone. The dark-haired woman had the grace to appear embarrassed to interrupt what looked like an important discussion. Director Mason nodded to the stranger, who received the gesture with a slight frown and left the office, brushing past Misora on the way out.

"So, what did you find out, Misora?" he questioned, his voice sounding slightly shaken.

"The virus is untouchable, sir," she said despondently. "The programmers are unable to crack it, and it infects the computers indefinitely. We're going to have to investigate the perpetrator ourselves."

The balding director nodded solemnly.

"I figured that that would be the case." He sighed and leaned back in his seat, closing his eyes for a moment before sighing and peering at Misora through steepled fingers.

"Do you know who I was just speaking with?"

Puzzled, Naomi Misora shook her head. "No, sir, I don't."

There was a pause.

"That man claimed to be representing L." The female agent's frame halted in shock and intrigue. "I don't know how he figured out our situation, but apparently he's offering his services to find whoever did this."

As honoured as she would have been to receive L's assistance on the case, to work with him again, Misora was still caught slightly off-guard. L only took cases that interested him, or those that involved him personally. Everyone in the agency knew that. However, this, no matter how fearful it made the FBI, was a run-of-the-mill hacker situation. Why would the great detective be compelled to involve himself in such a thing?

"Sir…why would L want to help us?" she questioned, voicing her doubts.

"We got in touch with the British M16," he elaborated. "Apparently, the same exact thing is happening there, too. In the same way, no one can figure out how to reverse the virus, or trace back to the hacker. The same is true for the Ministry of Justice in Japan, the Homusho, and the SCSSI in France. We're still corresponding with other intelligence agencies all over the world, and it seems like this hacker isn't just focusing on America. This is a widespread epidemic, and we don't know who or what is causing it, or why."

"A revolution," Misora said wanly, echoing the words on the screen not long ago.

"Do you know what that means?" Director Mason demanded.

"No, sir…I don't," she replied, earning a nod from the other that clearly said 'I thought as much'. "This is a serious problem. Are we going to employ L to help us?"

The man's face grew stern.

"Of course not. I will assign you to the case, Misora, but by no means will we fail. Each of the intelligence agencies will be sending in a representative agent to look into this, find the person responsible, and force him to take down this damned virus. We cannot have L bail us out every time we get into a bind. He will be a last resort, and that is all." He stood up slowly and reached into his desk, retrieving an envelope. "The agents on the global task force will meet at the next gathering of the ICPO. This envelope contains all you need to know, and a certificate of recommendation from me that ascertains you as the American representative. Understand, Misora?"

Flushed with the promise of investigating with people from other countries, she nodded, determination and excitement glowing in her eyes. And perhaps even L would have to be made use of in the event that they could not find the mastermind behind the hackings.

--

Yagami Raito arrived home early that day.

His girlfriend was no where in sight, of course, because she was out for a photo shoot, leaving the apartment silent and perfectly conducive to calm thought processes. He strode across the living space dutifully, reaching his bedroom to go through the routine of setting up his laptop. This time, he didn't touch the machine, instead opting to return to the living room and flick on the television.

The Japan Today news program was already underway, rattling off the day's reports as per usual. Raito waited expectantly for a particular announcement, and after minutes of criminal reports, it came:

"_Intelligence agencies all over the world have been struck by a computer virus, only known as Death Note because of the haunting message it conveys. Representatives from the ICPO have declared that no known solution has been found to the epidemic, and they will now be becoming personally involved with the mysterious hackings. Agents from each affected service will be sent in to track down and arrest the hacker responsible…" _

Raito shook his head. This was no good at all. They hadn't understood his other message, the one that hadn't been divulged through the media. This was a revolution, an answer to all of the corruption in the government and the world.

The brunette disappeared back into his room and reached for his laptop, fingers beginning to dance over the keys feverishly.

It was time for stage two of his revolution.

--

**A/N:** Ah, Naomi's debut. I'm glad I got to use her, since her character is interesting to me, and so very rarely used. It was difficult to figure out her personality, though, since she's such an under appreciated character, and so I found myself having to reference Another Note several times to make sure I was doing it right.

Well, that's another chapter. Thank you to **Mikanis**, my always wonderful beta, for reviewing it.

-Mail Jeevus


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